let me drown.

Not everyone can say they’ve been to the Big Apple, but [ ANGEL ROJAS ], a [ 45 ] year-old [ CIS MALE ] has lived in [ JACKSON HEIGHTS, QUEENS ] for [ 25 YEARS ON AND OFF ]. This is the city of dreams and [ HE/HIM ] knows it, because they came to NYC to be a [ RETIRED ROCKSTAR ].. Living in the city means they meet all kinds of people, but everyone always seems to think they look like [ PEDRO PASCAL ]. They even got away with free cab fare once because of it! 

“I can smell it from here – you’re not going to fool anyone,” Nicole informs him as they continue to walk from the subway stop towards the movie theatre, looking over her shoulder as if she’s concerned some agent of movie theatre appropriateness may be stalking them and overhearing their words.

“If you get caught and kicked out, I’m not going with you. I’m seeing this movie,” she tells him, pulling out her phone and squinting at it so she can locate whatever app the tickets are hiding in.

“Though, all you really have to do is flash the rock star smile and all is forgiven.”

“You’re being unnecessarily pessimistic,” He points out, as if she was peddling some doomsday logic and not a very real possibility that Angel wasn’t entertaining right now. One man, two cheeseburgers and a dream -- it had all the makings of a plan that could be a success. 

( That, or he was feeling as ambitious as whoever it was that greenlit the sequel they were about to see. ) 

​closed starter to @angelsrojas​ location: on his yacht, off the Manhattan Waterfront

     The mid-day sun beat down into the ocean around them as it did on his bare skin. Shirt off, shoes off, blunt hanging from lips, Lucifer dunked hand through ice water to grab two beers, talking through the obstruction. “Glad to welcome you back to the dark side, buddy. I don’t know why you keep trying with that sober shit. This?” he paused, passing over a beer, and finally plucking the blunt from his mouth, only to pass that over too after a long drag. He blew the smoke back into Angel’s face, and then grinned mischievously. “This is what life’s about. Laying on a yacht, in New York City, smokin’ a blunt, and crossfading. Take any longer opening that beer and I’m gonna throw you overboard.” Popping the cap off his own IPA, he then brought it to his lips and washed down the cotton mouth.

Angel takes the beer that’s held out to him, not in quite the rush Lucifer was to pry it open and down the contents. The pause was the effect of his long and arduous journey with AA, the steps he had taken and the creeds he had made louder in his head than they had ever been as he watches a bead of condensation run down the bottle.

One hand kept a hold on it while the other holds the rail the stopped him from plunging over the edge of the yacht to the blue below, his stare drifting from the water to the other man, once again assigning himself the impossible task of figuring out what his current motivation was. Chaos for the sake of it was the most obvious answer, the thing he’s most used to in the other’s company, but he likes to think some evolution on his own part was why he wasn’t racing into making a mistake with both arms open and not a single second thought like the younger version of him had. 

“So you’re not the man at the end of the bar named Angel who sent this drink?” she questioned. 

Closed starter with @angelsrojas​

It was no secret that Delilah was having a really hard time. The accident made things even worse for her. Being sober and going through something like this can break a person. Not being able to walk for a few weeks or do anything by herself made Delilah feel more depressed than usual. She had a few drinks and know that was she was doing was a really bad thing. She was sober for so long. What a shame. She felt like crying and the first person to pop up on her mind was Angel, her sponsor. She know that even though it’s late, he’ll help. Angel always know what to say to make Delilah feel better. She might disappoint him but, she needed help. 

While Angel considered his life in something of a transitional phase -- he was working regularly not diligently, he saw certain people more frequently than he had but not dedicatedly -- the one thing that gave him any sort of routine and structure was AA. No matter what kind of week he was having, he made sure to attend three meetings minimum, and his sponsees came before most people in his life. 

Delilah was no different. 

As soon as he had received a text from her that raised a red flag, he cut short the meeting he was having with an agent who was seeking to hire him to aid in the songwriting process of one of her artist’s, giving a blanket apology and a promise that he would clear some space in his schedule the following week to continue the conversation. 

local cafe in new york city for anyone / @exclusivestarters​

ava was watching at the male argue with the barista about the missing coffee he’d been waiting on for the next twenty minutes. she shook her head and eyed the person closest to her. “I swear to god no one gets this worked up over coffee and a bagel than anywhere else.” she listened to the male say that his name was vincent, and in unison, ava took one of the two coffees on her table and handed one to the same person she’d been speaking to. “i got an extra coffee if you’d like one.” the label along the cup said vincent and she smirked. “he deserved it. don’t worry, i gave the baristas a large tip for the trouble.” peering down at the cup. “it’s just black but there’s sugar and sweetener over there.”

Angel took the coffee that was offered, rotating the cup so he could see the very distinctive scrawl on it that read Vincent. The antics didn’t surprise him, Ava had been rambunctious the whole time he’s known her -- which was her entire life. 

“If you get me swung on for a black coffee, I’m not going to be impressed,” He tells her as he heads over to avail of some sweetener, which was as needed as the coffee for him. He returns to take a seat at her table, his back to the irate customer and the coffee cup shielded by his sitting presence which would hopefully save him from a cafe fistfight. 

“I have not. I would know that face anywhere, for one thing, and the second you spoke, I recognized the voice. I sang one of your songs and won Miss Teen Texas with it, thank you very much, I think I know who I’m talking to.”

Angel might have been able to come up with a firmer and more convincing reason as to why he was absolutely not himself, but his attention was piqued at the mention of Texas. Ain’t no where like home, he almost wants to say. 

“Jedi mind tricks won’t work on me.”

Here she was hiding in a cafe. Yet again. With all the stress and caffeine she had experienced and taken in lately, Amelia was certain her blood was nothing more than coffee and cortisol. She bit rather listlessly into her Danish when she heard the little commotion beside her. Of course the second Angel sat down in the table beside her, she knew exactly who he was. The only thing living in New York and other…”elite” cities taught her was that celebrities were people too. Feeling quite insular herself, Amelia sought to help the man. “Excuse me, I think your order’s been called.” she kindly interrupted to the woman and waited for her to rush to the counter before turning to the older man. “Must get that a lot huh?” she said almost half to herself with a small laugh as if giving him the option to engage.

Angel was still mid-discussion about how he absolutely, most definitely wasn’t him and was just about to try the doppelgänger theory as an escape route when he was saved by a bystander with quicker thinking skills than his own. He hadn’t had his coffee yet, that’s what he would blame. 

With his space vacated and the allure of a latte eclipsing his presence, he’s almost certain the woman wouldn’t circle back to him to re-ignite the conversation, which made him relax in the others presence. 

starter for: @angelsrojas​

location: utp

“You cannot sneak an entire cheeseburger into a movie theatre.”

When Angel stills and turns, there’s a seemingly endless silence stretching between them as Angel blinks at her, struck by her pessimism. For such a visionary, she could be a little shortsighted. 

“Not with that attitude I can’t.” 

The offensive choice of movie theatre snacks was currently being held at his side in his right hand in a brown paper bag, to be better concealed once they were actually about to enter the building.